There’s this boy who stole my heart….
He call’s me “Mummy”
From the moment I saw those two pink lines on a pregnancy test my life became about someone else. Was I eating the right things? Was I doing the right things? Should I rest more? Should I exercise more? And it doesn’t stop there. I still worry about whether I am doing the best for him and I expect I will his whole life
Yet this parental worry is probably the reason I am still here today. On my darkest of dark days I would look down at the beautiful baby we had created and pushed and forced myself to get up, feed him, change him and hold him. I told myself that the blackness was my problem, and David didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of it. He held me together more than any medication or doctor could.
Each time I felt like ending it all I would think of my beautiful baby, of him growing up without a mother and how that would affect him later in life. I would take a deep breath, and give my little boy a huge cuddle.
When it became clear that I needed hospital assistance I refused to go anywhere I couldn’t take my little boy. I was so frightened of being absent during such an important stage of bonding. Whether that is admirable or foolish i can’t say, but thankfully for me there was a mother and baby unit where I was able to take him.
One of the major things I worry about is that he will inherit my illness. Bipolar disorder has a large genetic component and often runs in families. We probably won’t find out until he is in his teens…but on the small chance he does develop bipolar disorder I hope I will be able to guide him through it. Sun, storms, rain or shine, I’ll always be there for you my darling David. My sunshine.